


Comfortable Love

by Venric66



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, My First Smut, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Smut, i was going to give this a plot but... eh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 22:25:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9849155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Venric66/pseuds/Venric66
Summary: When the commander’s shirt is finally peeled off, the assassin leans back to take in the image of her, bare and vulnerable and still grinning up at him.He wants to memorize every inch of her.Warning: Shameless smut ahead! Read at your own discretion.





	

Cool fingers brush the dark tresses away from Shepard’s neck, exposing the tender flesh between her neck and shoulder. A shiver runs down her spine at the sensation, and she leans into the arm that snakes around her middle from behind. Thane’s lips are soft and cool when they brush against the Commander’s pale skin, but his breath is unmistakably hot. The goosebumps that prickle the skin of her neck bring a twitch to the drell’s lips, and he tightens his grip around her waist, pulling her close so that her back is flush against him. She takes it with stride, tilting her head to the side to allow him easier access as he continues his ministrations, trailing soft kisses down the side of her neck. 

When his lips reach the tendon at the crook of her neck and shoulder, he bites down, earning a quick gasp and then a shuddering breath from Shepard as she grabs onto his arm. Thane’s tongue darts out to run over the flesh where he has bitten her, and soothes his following nips with licking and peppering kisses. The assassin makes a path back up Shepard’s neck to her ear, and when he reaches it, he takes her lobe gently between his teeth. 

He is fascinated by human ears, and especially by the soft moan that escapes her throat when he bites down on it. 

“Thane,” she breathes, taking his hand at her waist and guiding it down southward. Her action gives him pause. 

“Siha...” Thane murmurs in her ear, resisting the path her wandering hand is seeking to coax his into.

Another shiver rolls down the woman’s spine as his breath tickles her ear, paired with a quiet noise escaping her mouth. 

The drell hesitates for a fraction of a moment longer, but only just, and then in a snap decision, he spins the woman around in his arms to capture her lips with his own. Though his lips are cool to the touch, the kiss is heated, and Shepard is pleasantly surprised by how soft they are, and how perfectly they seem to mesh with her own.

As one arm remains tightly wound around her waist, Thane’s other hand tangles in her ebony locks. He had been enraptured by her hair for ages, and his steadily growing desire to run his fingers through the silky looking tresses was deeply gratified when it is as soft as he has imagined. 

Shepard’s hands find their way to his chest, and the fingers on one run along the smooth scales exposed by his leather coat, while the other reaches up to caress his neck. Fingers brush against the frill lining the ribbed flesh of his jaw, and the assassin parts her lips with his tongue to deepen their kiss, pressing her body to him more tightly with his arms as he explores her mouth. The effect is dizzying, though the hallucinogenic quality may have something to do with that. The taste is a hint of something earthy that reminds her of herbal tea, but stronger, as if oversteeped. Almost bitter, even. Coupled with a faint taste of spice that Shepard couldn’t place. The exotic taste of his mouth isn’t sweet like a human’s, but it is nowhere near unpleasant. 

Curiosity brings the woman’s fingers lower, and she is taken aback by the low rumble that escapes the reptilian man’s throat when she tentatively runs the tips of her fingers over the scarlet ribs along his jaw. She has never touched him there before, as intuition told her it was somehow crossing a line. As it seems, her suspicions were correct. 

Thane nearly growls as her fingers wander down toward the red flesh covering his throat, and she can almost feel the rumbling of his voice when he pulls away from her mouth just enough to speak in a low, husky murmur. “Siha, that is...”  
Her thumb brushes his throat now, causing the man to strain in effort to hold back another deep rumbling. 

“That is... a very sensitive area of drell anatomy,” he finally chokes out, dark eyes swimming with a mixture of uncertainty and lust. 

Shepard can’t help the corners of her mouth from curling up into an almost devious grin. “Sensitive?” she questions in a light voice, feigning innocence as she deliberately strokes the crimson frills on his jaw once more. 

A low growl emanates from deep within his chest, and before Shepard has time to register his reaction, she is abruptly lifted up by the strong arm that hooks under her thigh and pressed against the wall of the fish tank behind her. Thane’s hand slides from behind her knee to high up the underside of Shepard’s thigh while the other digs into her hip. His lips are on her in a second, ravaging her mouth with a flurry of hot and heavy kisses. 

Shepard’s head spins as his tongue roams her mouth, this time with abandon, and he is ruthless. He leaves no corner of her mouth unexplored or forgotten. It is all Shepard can do to keep up, and all too soon, his now warm lips break contact with hers to leave a trail of hot kisses from the corner of her mouth downward, along her jaw to her throat, and when he bites down on the tender flesh of her neck this time, it is much harder than before. A low, guttural groan escapes her, and she clings desperately to the back of his coat. The harder bite is remedied by his lips and tongue once more, and another moan leaves the woman, just barely louder than before, as he matches his kissing and licking with another bite, this time harder still. 

While keeping Shepard pressed between his body and the thick, cool glass wall of the fish tank in her cabin, Thane continues this pattern of ruthless attack at her neck, finding her most sensitive spots with ease and bombarding them with a series of nipping, kissing, and even sucking. He is tentative at first, but he has heard that some humans (and asari) enjoy it, and he is rewarded when she grinds her hips against him and moans deeply in response the first time he sucks at the tender skin of her neck just below her ear. After that, his hesitations are moot.

As Thane’s mouth moves against her neck, one of Shepard’s hands is at his back while the other rests at the nape of his neck, fingers toying with the scaled ridges along his head. He lets his own hands wander, one finding its way to grasp at her ass while he had her pinned up between himself and the fish tank, and the other sliding up from her hip along her side. She lets out a moan, throaty and loud, at the sensation of his hand gliding up her side toward her breast, and Thane finds himself grinding his hips against hers as the continual noises from her awaken a deep ache in his groin. She responds with just as much fervor, rolling her hips to meet his, harder with each motion as her need grows further. A sound that is the closest thing to a whimper that Thane has ever heard escape the Commander’s lips meets his ears, and there is suddenly too much clothing separating them, too much space between where their bodies need to be. 

“Thane,” she breathes out, her chest rising and falling with her panting. “Thane...” She arches her back into him, desperate for contact, wanting more than this, and trails her fingers from the back of the drell’s neck along his ribbed jaw and down the side of his throat. 

“Siha,” he warns once more, parting his lips from her skin in favor of controlling his now heavy breathing, his voice low and thick, rumbling with desire. “If you keep that up...” If she continues, he doesn’t know what will be left of his already fragile grasp on his own self-control, and the finely tuned instinct in him to regain that control makes him uneasy. But the ache in his groin has not subsided, and he is painfully aware of it as she rolls her hips deliberately against him again. 

“If I keep this up, what?” she murmurs, thumb rubbing gentle circles over the highly sensitive skin on his neck. 

“Siha,” he pleads, angling his head to meet her eyes this time, heavy lidded with want. “I don’t know if I can... if I...” 

Shepard hushes him, pressing her lips to his with only slightly less urgency than he had exhibited previously. “If what?” She moves to kiss the corner of his mouth and continues down, nearing dangerously to the frill along his jaw. “I want you, Thane.”

A low rumbling resounds from his throat before he can stop himself, and the assassin reluctantly pulls back from her lips, ignoring the desire to find out what her lips feel like on his frill. This would be much easier if he could pretend not to feel the heat between her legs, even through their clothing, as she presses herself even tighter to him. 

“Please,” she whispers, lip trembling as an unsteady breath leaves her, and Thane can feel his resolve shattering at the layer of need heavy in her voice and the desire swimming in her grey-blue irises. 

Amonkira, give him strength. 

The assassin wastes no time in hooking his arms under Shepard’s thighs and disconnecting her from the cool glass wall of the fish tank, carrying her to her large bed across the room in just a few long strides. Despite the hurried journey over, he deposits her on the pristine white comforter gently, taking care not to injure her in his haste. 

Looking up at him with those crystal irises that he is so fond of with such adoration and longing, the corners of Shepard’s lips curl up into a warm smile, and Thane decidedly burns the image into his mind. 

Though he knows his memory is eidetic, he never wants to forget that image. 

The commander’s fingers grasp at the collar of his dark leather coat, pulling him out of his momentary awe down to meet her lips in another heated kiss, this time skipping straight ahead to explore his mouth with her soft pink tongue. Of course, he doesn’t mind. Thane matches her fervor, climbing atop her on the mattress and steadying himself on a hand near her head and the dark locks pooling around it. He lets the other hand run up along the outer edge of the woman’s thigh, pausing at the hem of her shirt, and slips his thumb underneath to caress the light skin of her hip. 

The drell feels rather than hears the sigh his actions elicit from her, and she deepens their kiss in response, one of her hands sliding around to the back of his neck to pull him in closer, while the other moves down his chest to work at unfastening his jacket. Fingers quick and accurate, she makes easy work of his coat and moves to slide it impatiently off his shoulders, but Thane is infinitely patient. Instead, his hand travels up her shirt, caressing her waist and the taut muscles of her abdomen. She shivers under his touch, and tugs feebly at his jacket, pouting into the kiss. With her hands at his chest, she can feel the deep, rumbling chuckle that emanates from him at her reaction. Breaking momentarily from her lips, Thane leans his forehead against hers, his heavy breathing mingling with her own. 

“Patience, siha. There will be time for that.” Swimming dark orbs meet Shepard’s lidded gaze, heavy with desire. Her eyebrows furrow discontentedly, and he finds it difficult to resist the twitch at the corner of his lips, urging him to smile. The assassin covers it up by pressing a short kiss to her lips, soft and sweet. “For now, let me cherish you. My time may not be long, but I wish to relish every moment I have left with you.”

Shepard would never admit it, but she feels a fluttering in her chest and a twisting somewhere in her gut at his words, a kind of bittersweet feeling as their meaning sinks in. “Thane...” she breathes, her mouth turning down into the smallest of frowns. 

Another gentle kiss shushes her. “Please, Shepard.” Thumb rubbing circles into the side of her ribs as he speaks, the commander can feel her skin prickling at both his touch and his deliberate use of her name. “What were your own words? ‘Be alive with me tonight’,” he places another kiss to her lips, and Shepard can feel herself relaxing against him. 

It wouldn’t do to ruin what little time they have together by despairing over it. 

She doesn’t answer him, not verbally. She doesn’t need to. If the subject is pressed further, the possibility of the man slipping into solipsism and being deterred from enjoying the moment together right now, is high, and she knows the guilt will ruin the mood if she pushes him back into an earlier frame of mind. Instead, she kisses him, long and hard, and wraps both arms around his neck. 

Thane responds quickly, a pleased sound vibrating from his throat. Tilting his head to grant them both easier access to ravaging the other’s mouth, his hand roams farther up the commander’s side, stopping to brush his thumb against the lower edge of her breast experimentally. The reaction is immediate, her skin prickling at his touch as her body shudders beneath him. The drell’s lip twitches into a pleased smirk. 

Again, he brushes his thumb against her breast, the movement this time slow and deliberate. Then his thumb is over the sensitive bud of her nipple, and Thane’s ears are met with the delightful sound of a breathy moan from Shepard as her body arches into his touch.

Encouraged, the drell continues his tease her as his mouth leaves hers to travel down her neck once more. A pleasant sigh is on her breath as his lips ghost over her throat, and her fingers tighten their clenching hold on the back of his jacket. A light smirk against her sensitive skin, and a not so small part of him deeply enjoys toying with her steadily increasing impatience. And oh, he is just getting started.

Thane’s lips move from her throat downward, and when he reaches the sharp edge of her collarbone, he drags his teeth over it, while one of the commander’s legs winds itself around his waist, drawing the man in closer. From her collarbone, Thane trails a path down along the curve of her breast with his tongue, and the action is met with a sharp gasp. 

For just a moment, the drell is afraid that the sound is a bad one, that maybe he has caused her discomfort somehow, or that the hallucinatory effects of his contact have finally set in, or, perhaps worst of all, that she has suddenly come to her senses and wants nothing more to do with a dying man with no promise of a future, but... 

Seeing her reaction; the heavy rise and fall of her chest, the rosy tinge to her flushed cheeks, the fists still clutching desperately to the jacket on his back... Something stirs within him, and all at once there is far too much fabric separating their bodies.  
Still firm in his resolve to relish every second of her, Thane moves slowly, painfully slowly, when his fingers carefully grasp the hem of Shepard’s tank top and ease it upward over her stomach. Shepard grins at him then, lifting her arms above her head to allow him better access, and the action is so simple, so transparent and trusting, that Thane feels both sets of eyelids flutter at the gesture.

When the commander’s shirt is finally peeled off, the assassin leans back to take in the image of her, bare and vulnerable and still grinning up at him.

He wants to memorize every inch of her.

Chest swelling with affection, Thane returns to her mouth to press a soft, lingering kiss on her smiling lips, which Shepard returns eagerly. Once more, the man traces a path of alternating kisses and nips down toward her chest, where he pauses at her breasts.  
Truthfully, Thane has never encountered human breasts, at least not up close, and certainly not in an intimate setting, though he is fairly well-versed in human anatomy, as is required of any professional interspecies assassin, and he is the best. If Shepard’s earlier reactions are anything to go by, then he is on the right track when he trails his hot kisses all the way to the nipple on one breast, yet not quite reaching the sensitive bud itself. Rather, he teases her, skirting his lips past it, and the gasp he draws from her lungs when his tongue darts out to circle around it is sharper than even the last, though this time he is not wary of the sound, but treasures it. Committing the sound to his inherently eidetic memory is not difficult, but he makes a point to consciously remember it anyway, because he wants to have as many pleasant memories as he can to lose himself to in the events leading up to his death, and gods, if it doesn’t stir him every time...

Similar to his earlier actions, the drell teases Shepard’s other breast with his hand, rolling a thumb that is simultaneously too gentle and too rough over her erect nipple. Shepard shudders, moaning deeply and arching into him. 

Thane moves south then, resuming his trail of kisses down over her taut abdomen. He adores the rise and fall of her stomach much like her chest with every indrawn breath and exhalation. Planting a tender kiss on the space just below her rib cage and just above her belly button, Thane quirks a brow ridge as the commander draws in a quick and sharp breath and holds it, momentarily giving the assassin pause at the way her stomach seems to curl inward on itself at the touch of his lips on that particular spot.

Experimentally, the man presses another soft kiss there when she relaxes and releases the breath she has been holding. Again, a quick draw of air, but instead of holding it this time, the commander lets out a breathy chuckle. 

“Thane, I -- Stop,” she breathes a laugh again as the assassin repeats his kiss a third time, undeniable curiosity written in his features. “Thane! I’m -- I’m ticklish!” Shepard confesses, squirming beneath him giddily at his fourth kiss.

The drell’s head quirks to the side, just slightly, in question. “Ticklish?” He moves his attention southward to the button on the commander’s pants as she does her best to explain the phenomenon to the alien. He is both perplexed and intrigued by the idea, and an almost mischievous gleam in his dark eyes as he makes quick work of Shepard’s boots and slowly slides her trousers down over her hips with careful hands. He leaves her underwear on for the moment, motivated by the idea of teasing her for just a little bit longer. Tearing his eyes away from drinking in the sight of her, the assassin briefly meets her eyes. “How... peculiar.”

Shepard raises her brows at him in mild surprise, propped up on her elbows now to watch him as he moves farther down her body. “Don’t drell get ticklish?” Genuine curiosity in her question.

“No.” Thane answers bluntly, a look of bewilderment on his features. “Drell have tougher scales and fewer exposed nerve endings compared to that of human skin.” The corners of his lips tug upward into the ghost of a smile. Or, perhaps, a smirk. “Moreover... it sounds like a weakness that could easily be exploited... even by those with subpar training.” 

When he is done speaking, he begins kissing along the commander’s inner thighs now, his lips smooth and cool against her rapidly heating flesh. Shepard suppresses a groan, but is unable to keep her eyelashes from fluttering at the immensely pleasing sensation.

“Well,” she breathes as his kisses travel higher up her thighs, “now the best assassin in the galaxy knows my weakness.” Shepard has to work to suppress another moan as Thane’s lips press to her core over the top of her underwear. She fails, voice raspy and breath heavy as the man’s fingers ghost over the sensitive bud through the thin, thoroughly damp cloth. “You seem to have me at a disadvantage, sere Krios.” she manages to breathe out, shuddering as his fingers hook over the waistline of her underwear and gently tug, easing the black fabric down, painfully slowly, past her hips.

“Indeed,” Thane smirks, pulling the article all the way down Shepard’s nearly dripping sex now, and slides it past her legs to be thrown haphazardly across the room, forgotten until later. “How can I make this more fair for you, my siha?” 

Oh, she could think of a few ways... But Shepard merely hums, enjoying their banter and the rumbling in his voice as he teases her relentlessly by moving to kiss along her inner thighs once more, nearing agonizingly close to her sensitive core. She has a difficult time resisting the primal urge to thrust her hips upward to help him move things along, but instead asks, “What about you, Thane? What’s your weakness?” with a delicately arched brow.

The assassin pauses for a brief moment, lips hovering inches away from her eager sex, meeting her eyes with a gaze so intense it sends a shiver rolling down the commander’s spine. He seems to consider the question for a minute, then murmurs his answer simply:

“You.”

Shepard doesn’t have time to react to the fluttering in her stomach at his response, as all coherent thought is flooded from her brain in favor of the sensation of Thane’s tongue skillfully gliding along the slit of her entrance. 

Chest heaving, all she can manage is a moan, low and throaty, fingers curling into the blankets at her side. Thane takes her response in stride, tongue moving now to flick over the small bundle of nerves he has discovered she loves, and her breathing quickens as he swirls his warm, wet digit around it. Shepard arches into him again, her voice ragged when his name passes her lips in the form of a sigh. Music to his ears.

Thane works his tongue on her, slipping in and out of her slick folds with a skill absurdly unfair of an alien who has never been with a human. As his tongue laps at her sex, he uses a deft thumb to rub small circles around her her bud, and Shepard is a writhing mess of moans and sighs beneath him. 

When the commander finally comes undone, his name is on her lips as she arches into him, a hand grasping blindly at the nape of his ridged neck, cheeks flushed and chest heaving.

A vehement reminder that Thane is absolutely and helplessly in love with Shepard, his warrior angel, his siha.

Leaning down to lay a tender kiss to the woman’s parted lips, he wonders at how she has saved him, startled him awake from his desolate battle sleep; how she has so completely enthralled him and made him dare to long for a future he will never get to have.

A future they will never get to have.

But Shepard is here now, with him, naked in his arms, and he will be damned if he lets anything get in the way of savoring this moment with her. Thane breaks their kiss before it deepens further and sits back on his knees, still straddling her waist, as he makes quick work of undoing the clasps on the front of his jacket before reaching back to slide it off his shoulders, and peeling it off of his arms. Eagerly, Shepard runs her hands up along the drell’s newly exposed flesh on his well-built arms, and helps him to remove the last bit of clothing covering his torso. Again her hands are on him, and she can feel the low rumbling of pleasure as her fingers trace the contours of his markings and rippling muscles over his surprisingly smooth scales. Now it is Thane’s turn to repress a shudder as her hands move southward to hook over the waistline of his trousers when they are done caressing his chest. 

Soon his trousers join the rest of their clothing in forgotten heaps on the floor of Shepard’s cabin, and he is bare before her. Thane lets the commander drink in the sight of him, adjusting to the anatomical differences in their bodies. When her hand hovers tentatively just above his erection, her eyes flicker up to search his dark orbs, swimming with both affection and desire. He leans down to connect their lips once more, groaning lowly as the woman’s hand wraps around him in a careful, yet eager grip. He gently pulls her hand away from his length, bringing it up to place a soft kiss to the back of her knuckles, then to her palm, holding her hand to his cheek and leaning into it, letting his eyes flutter at the warm feeling. 

At her disappointed pout, a low chuckle rumbles from within his chest. “Worry not, siha. You haven’t done anything wrong.” He kisses the inside of her wrist now, just as tender as the last two, and meets her questioning gaze with a soft smile. “I simply wish for this to be about you tonight,” he murmurs, and Shepard can feel her chest swell at his words. This man would surely be the end of her.

A green, scaled thumb reaches out to brush against her still flushed cheek, the action so tender and loving that Shepard almost forgets that he is a deadly assassin trained from childhood. Another hand runs down her side to hook underneath her thigh, and the trail his touch leaves is electric, igniting her sensitive skin all the way down. He kisses her again, this time long and slow, and the motion of his mouth on hers matches his hips as he enters her in one long and slow thrust, filling her fully. 

Thane gives her a moment to adjust before he moves, running his tongue against hers in their kiss while the thumb at her cheek caresses her jaw almost delicately, fingers curling in her dark, silky tresses. At first when he begins moving against her, the assassin’s pace is slow and languid, and it is all Shepard can do to swallow the moans threatening to escape her as his length fills her again and again. 

Soon, though, Shepard finds herself growing needy for more, and as if he can read sense her feelings, the drell slowly increases his pace, using the hand hooked beneath her leg to angle her hips in just the right way so that he hits that spot with every sharp thrust. She groans out his name, meeting his thrusts with her hips as one hand claws at the back of the man’s neck. 

Heat begins to coil in her belly, and her moans become desperate as she longs for her second release, and as if Thane can sense it again, he slows back to an agonizing pace, earning a disappointed and exasperated groan. “Thane...”

If he didn’t so adore her desperate writhing beneath him at his cruel torture, Thane might feel bad for bringing her so close to the edge, only to delay her. But he wants to be sure that when she finally comes undone around him that she is completely and utterly satisfied. 

Gradually, he works back up to his previous quick thrusts, and it takes her even less time to build the coiling heat within her core, and just when she is about to shatter, he gives her one hard, deep thrust, filling her to his hilt and sending her over the edge. Shepard arches into him and nearly screams out, his name on her lips, and the sound combined with her heat clenching tightly around him is enough to send the drell into his own shattering release as he empties into her, groaning out her own name with ragged breath.

For several minutes they lay still, panting and sweaty and terribly blissful as they both come down from their highs. Thane leans his head down to touch his forehead to hers, eyes closing as he nuzzles her nose, hot breath mingling through parted lips. Shepard gazes at him with lidded eyes, filled with more warmth than Thane has ever dared to think he deserves from anyone, let alone the figure of gracious leadership and tenacity and hope that is Commander Shepard, a warrior angel sent by the goddess Arashu herself. 

He wonders at what he has done to be blessed with another siha, and doubts that he will ever be able to atone for his own sins enough to deserve this second chance. 

But Shepard wraps her arms around his neck in a firm embrace, pulling him down to collapse beside her on the bed, and his arms move almost of their own accord to coil around her waist and bring her tight against his chest. Stroking that back of her head tenderly, the drell buries his face in her neck, memorizing the moment with her. 

“Thane,” she sighs blissfully, tucking her head beneath his chin as her eyes flutter closed. Lips press in a tender kiss to the top of her head, and the assassin watches her drift to a peaceful and contented slumber, too amazed and alive to sleep as he marvels at the woman in his arms.

Thane can’t believe he has ever fooled himself into thinking he isn’t in love with her.

He’s loved her for so long.


End file.
